


Molotov

by PoisonJack



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, General au, Hurt/Comfort, So i hear you guys like whump, lets bring on the pain train, mildly-graphic imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 00:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15425103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonJack/pseuds/PoisonJack
Summary: You like angst? Boy do I have some angst.Nora and Deacon go to clear out the National Guard training yard. Bad shit happens. Deacon is trapped, Nora tries to save him.





	Molotov

**Author's Note:**

> As of this posting, I'm still accepting prompts over on my tumblr (either from the angst meme or otherwise). If it's a pairing/prompt I think i can't do, I'll answer right away about it, otherwise, i'm kind of a writing machine. Hit me up :) 
> 
> This also posted on my tumblr here.

She wished she’d never agreed to come here. 

The National Guard training yard was something she’d been trying to avoid. She didn’t like ferals, didn’t like the way they could lay as still as a corpse until you got just close enough to be too late. And what with her lightness of foot, and improvement of masking her presence thanks to Deacon’s rather _hands-on_ approach to teaching, those damn walking corpses always popped out when she was just within arm’s length.

She _hated_ ferals. It was the one thing in the commonwealth she just hadn’t managed to come to terms with. Like walking among the distorted remnants of her past.

The settlers at County Crossing wanted the facilities cleared before they’d ally with the Minutemen, and Deb at Bunker Hill was sick of attacks on caravans passing through the trading center. It was putting a dent in their local economy, and slowing down trade.

“ _Bunker Hill is important to Railroad operations,”_ Des had said. “ _Clear it out.”_

_“It’ll be a cakewalk,”_ Deacon had said, clapping Nora on the shoulder. “ _What’s a few ferals compared to a full-frontal assault? Ha ha, get it?”_

Her stomach did sick flops recalling the way Deacon had suggested a balls-out approach just to bring a smile to her face. Des had rolled her eyes, but let them do the job however they saw fit. And Deacon was all jokes and smiles to distract from the anxiety of the job the entire way there. It had made her laugh and smile and not dread the job at hand as much as she had been.

“ _It’ll be the_ perfect _tactic. When’s the last time a feral even saw that much glamourous skin, huh?”_ It was all about disturbing the enemy and all, make them so envious of his secret tattoo that they’d fumble all over themselves.

“ _You don’t_ have _any secret tattoos, Deacon,_ ” Nora had quietly laughed as they’d cleared the ground floor. “ _I’d know.”_

“ _Maybe you should look closer, hm? Maybe there’ll be a surprise tonight.”_

“ _It doesn’t count if you draw something on yourself when we’re done here,”_ she’d said with a grin as they’d started on the second floor. “ _But I won’t_ not _be impressed if you get creative about locations.”_

He’d waggled his brows at her and said there was a marker in his bag for just such an occasion.

And that was when it all went to hell.

She didn’t know how there had been so many in one place, or _why,_ but ‘swarm’ was rather appropriate for the ferals that fumbled after them. Her brain decided at that moment to pick out the finer details of their situation: the bloodied sleeping bag in the corner of the room, the withered flesh that reached out for them even as they made retreat, and an insistent, diabolical little voice in her head telling her she was next.

Nora dropped a few of them before her panic set in, rotting and charred ghouls among the pack in such numbers that terror overtook her.

She threw the grenade without even thinking, pulling the pin before Deacon could warn against it as he dropped another feral with his gun.

The explosion shook the entire building, the ferals’ flesh acting as a meat shield as Nora and Deacon had run for cover and the shrapnel had taken them out. Dust was everywhere. Loud, resonating cracks and creaks as part of the dilapidated floor gave away, and the gurgling noises of dying ghouls joined the general chaos. 

It took a few disoriented moments for Nora to peel herself off the floor where she’d fallen, pushing a desk that had halfway pinned her off, debris-scraped cheeks and palms stinging as her heart tried to escape her chest. 

Deacon. Where was Deacon?

The desk that had fallen on her had also saved her from being speared by an old beam from above, the ceiling still creaking in threat of coming down on their heads. The ferals were all dead, or so buried and pinned they might as well have been. It took her a minute to find Deacon, and when she did she felt her heart seize and immediately went into action.

He was pinned beneath a fallen section of the roof. His face was covered in dust, as was the rest of him, and he was breathing hard and fast; adrenaline rushing through his system. It was the only reason he wasn’t screaming or passed out yet.

“....N-Nora…” She was already pulling larger pieces off him, but he knew it was for nothing. What he could feel-- and what he _couldn’t_ \- said it all. “My-my- _my legs are crushed,_ ” he managed to get out quickly through clenched teeth, a cry of pain escaping from deep in his throat. 

Blood and tears were dripping down his suffering face, sunglasses broken that she tossed aside, and he screamed when she tried to lift the fallen upper floor off him. It didn’t move; a minute change in pressure the only difference, and she let out an anguished noise as she frantically tried to save him.

She dug through her pack to find the three stimpacks there. It had to do _something_. “I’m getting you out of here, Deacon. I’m getting you out.”

“No--”

“ _Yes_ I am! I’m getting you out okay so just hold on!” She injected him with one, thinking it should do _something_ \-- buy her time at least- but he screamed as she pushed down the plunger. “I know, _I know honey I know_ ,” she said to the pain coursing through him. His half-sobbed, half-coughed sounds of suffering were ripping through her, hands shaking as she realized this might be _it._ “I’m getting you _out._ ”

She looked around her as if some magical solution would appear. There was nothing but still-settling dust and creaks of unsteady construction; the whole place threatening to go at any minute.

“ _Nora-_ ” Deacon placed a hand on the one she had gripping a piece of the floor covering him. His own hand shook with effort and tremors of pain as he made cries at his own movement. He was losing blood. He couldn’t feel it, but the ebbing strength, the fact he couldn’t feel _anything_ below his torso, he knew he was dying. This was something he wasn’t going to bounce back from.

“No, no Deacon, _no,_ ” Nora practically growled at him, her own face wet with defiant tears as she looked at him. “I am getting you _out!”_

“J-Just _go._ I’d feel better.” The words were hard to put together, the adrenaline starting to ebb, and the burning fire and pressure of his injuries was starting to catch up with him. He was pretty sure his back was broken, if not the rest of him. Funny, that his mind would fall back to taking stock of injuries to try and deal with the pain. Not that it would do him any good. He knew he wasn’t getting out of here alive; the pain was already trying to drag him under before his injuries did the rest.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what the _hell_ to do. There was half a slab of concrete that weighed at least as much as a truck on him, and even if she got him _out,_ she didn’t think all the stimpacks in the commonwealth could save him. She’d be doing it for _her,_ she realized. Because he wasn’t walking out of here.

It didn’t mean she was going to stop trying though. 

“I’m going to get you out, and get you to a doctor, and you’ll be okay. _Deacon stay awake!”_ she yelled at him as his eyes glazed over even more.

“Live… live, Barb,” he told her, teeth chattering, mind confused and _knowing_ that wasn’t right, but not sure what the correct answer was as his entire lower half felt like it was burning him alive, and it was getting harder to draw breath as his heartbeat nearly drowned out his hearing.

Nora kissed his forehead, squeezing his hand as he muttered things that didn’t make sense. Her heart wanted to explode, and she was _frantic._ No, she wasn’t going to lose him. Not like she’d lost Nate. She wasn’t going to let another man she loved die.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, sorry,” she said quickly as she injected another stimpack into him, followed by the last. He howled in pain when she did it, the noise hollow, cracking as his vocal cords strained and he went into a painful cough as she cried and tried to soothe him. 

Time. She needed time. Just a little time, whatever the stimpacks might give her. 

She could get the settlers at County Crossing. They were _right_ there. They could help her lift the debris off him, pull him out.

_And then what?_

“Deacon. _Dee._ I’m getting help, okay? I’m getting help, you just _hang on._ Hang on sweetheart,” she told him shakily as she kissed his forehead and got to her feet. “I love you, I love you so much, just hang on.”

If he registered her words at all, he didn’t show it. He was still breathing, murmuring something garbled as fear further took her. Her brain supplied that _his_ was probably suffering trauma; lack of oxygen, blood, hell, she had no idea the extent of his injuries except that he was _dying._

His vision was comprised of shadow and light, and something in him spiked with fear as a shadow passed right before everything went still. If his brain was working right, he might’ve realized it was fear that had taken him, realizing Nora had gone just like he’d asked, and he was going to die there alone.

But his brain _wasn’t_ working right, and all he knew was pain before the darkness, and then there was nothing.

\--

There was old, weathered and rusted steel above, shadows and a dirty blue sheet, and old nails that were just _begging_ to give someone tetanus. A tiny space with still air. Plain. Nondescript.

_Hell looks just like the commonwealth,_ Deacon thought to himself.

“Rude.”

Deacon turned his head, wincing slightly, and frowned in confusion. Had he said that aloud? 

Nora was there, and she was holding his hand, unshed tears in her eyes and a warm smile on her face. He blinked and inhaled once deeply, causing a minor coughing fit. Instantly she was helping him to sit up, voice easy, comforting, and he was confused to hell as to how he was still alive. She didn’t move from where she’d gotten her arm around him, pressing a kiss to his temple, and he was further thunderstruck.

“Hey there stranger.”

“Nor?” He squeezed the other hand she still held his own with, a little shocked when she squeezed back; that she was actually there. “Is this real?”

“More real than the tattoo on your ass,” she snarked with a laugh, the tears in her eyes finally falling. She let go of his hand to wipe them away before retaking it, still smiling with relief. “How do you feel?”

“Confused…” She made a slightly amused noise, but her smile was still watery as she watched him. He was missing some major time. “What exactly.… I’m not dead.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, voice choking a little at the end. She brought his hand to her lips to kiss it. He gave her a tug, kissing her face before he gingerly wrapped his arms around her. She easily hugged him, but was careful, still perched on the stool by the bed he was in. 

He’d never felt so dumb in his life, but also never quite as confused. This was… He’d had close calls, but this had to be something else. He should be dead. No one should have survived being crushed the way he had. Had she taken his brain, plugged it into the Memory Den? Were they in a simulation right now? “How… How are we talking right now?” Her face took on a look of concern, but he brought her back to his chest, hugging her tight. It felt real. 

“I got you out.”

He didn’t mean to snort at the quiet-spoken statement, but he couldn’t help it. “Sorry babe, just, you’re getting good at the lies, but there’s no way that’s true.”

She pulled back to look him in the eyes. She’d still need to scrounge up a new pair of sunglasses for him. He wouldn’t be happy to go without for too long. “I got you out.” She placed a hand at his neck, feeling his heart beating strongly in his pulse. Her thumb caressed his jawline, and she just held him there a moment appreciating the life in him. “The settlers here helped, but--”

Deacon shook his head. “No way. Is this a simulation? I know the Memory Loungers are pretty realistic. I died back there right? Ow!”

She’d pinched the delicate skin at his shoulder and neck, and he pulled back to give her a wounded look. “Can’t feel pain inside a memory, asshole,” she stated plainly, no venom to her words. She pressed a kiss to his cheek in apology, and hugged him again. “I remembered a suit of power armor close by that I’ve been meaning to bring back. I lifted the floor and they… they pulled you out.” 

The memory was still far too visceral, the image of how destroyed his body had been was something she was never going to forget. The inhuman sound he’d made when Ronnie and Jo had pulled him free… Her skin broke out in goosebumps.

“Hey,” he said softly, the tremor gone through her and the way her voice hitched telling him enough to know she sure as hell wasn’t lying. 

“Jack Cabot.”

“Jack Cabot?” he repeated in question. He knew the guy. A little weird. Family was still living like the bombs had never fallen, as far as he’d gathered. What he’d had to do his rescue, he couldn’t parse.

“I ran an op with MacCready before running into you…” She smiled at the thought, meeting his eyes again, stroking his skin. “That’s… I’ll tell you all about it later, but, I forgot-- He’s a scientist of sorts, weird shit, magic, I don’t know how else to describe it, but he had this serum….” 

She hugged him again, close, and he could feel her heart beat fast. He held her against him, inhaled her scent, and pet her. If this was a lie, it was a hell of a good one. 

“Me and Mac, we kept it-- He can make more, don’t worry, but it’s-- it’s like some batshit crazy immortality potion or something, I don’t know. Kept the whole family young. They’re- they’re older than _I_ am….”

Deacon made a little unsettled noise, pressing a kiss to her temple. “So you got this magic potion and brought me back, huh?”

“I didn’t know it would work, but I can’t believe I forgot I had it. I’m so glad I had it.” She hugged him tight with renewed relief. The mess his body had been… and the quickness that the serum had done its work. She was _still_ shocked he was alive and awake and _talking._

“...how bad was it?” She shook her head quickly, a sickened look coming over her face, and suddenly he didn’t want to know anymore. She’d probably be having nightmares for a long time coming. He wiggled his toes, stretching his legs slightly. Seemed like everything was in working order. Nothing hurt, at least. He was a little sore. “How, uh… _heh_ … just how long was I out of commission?”

“We’ve been here nearly a week. County Crossing,” she elaborated at the questioning look on his face. She looked away again, her eyes filling with more tears. “I thought… I thought… _Deacon….”_

“Hey, I’m all good. Check it out babe, my legs work and everything,” he said as he wiggled about in bed. She was crying again, hands kneading at him, and he brought her back in close. “Come on now, you’re gonna start making _me_ cry. And that is an _ugly_ thing, sweetheart, let me tell ya. I got a splinter once and Glory had to take it out and, well, there’s a reason she won’t triage me anymore.”

Nora was laughing quietly through her tears, hugging him tight and kissing his skin. _God_ she was so relieved he was alright. “I thought I lost you. I love you so much, Deacon. I’m so glad you’re--” She had to swallow over the lump in her throat. She was going to choke over the tears she still had left to spill.

“Hey, what’d we say about tears, huh?” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “Love you, too, hot stuff. Goddamn but I’m luckier than shit, huh?”

“If I hadn’t thrown that damn grenade in the first--”

“Stop, Nora.” He held her tight, kissed her lips with his own, pet her and kept her close. This was something else they’d need to get past. “I’m okay, you’re okay, and you know what? We won’t take anymore jobs that deal with ferals, okay? Not if we can help it. There’s gotta be some perks to being a General, right?” She snorted and kissed his lips again. He hummed into the kiss. “Hey, how’d you like to take everything for a test run later on? Make sure everything is still working below the belt? How about it, hot stuff?”

She batted his hand away from her as he waggled his brows, crying and laughing at the same time, and remained close to him for the rest of the day until he felt up to a little spritely walk.

Later that night, in the semi-privacy of the sheet-covered room, Nora was laughing full-fledged at the hearts, badly-drawn mutfruit flowers, and her name scribbled all over Deacon’s body. Where he’d found the time or even the marker to do it, she didn’t know, but he gave her that damn charming grin of his and encouraged her to find all fifty-seven designs he’d taken the liberty of inking onto himself. 

She took a little artistic license in the counting and made her inventory-count with kisses. He paid back the favor with leaving a few marks of his own that he counted with his own lips the following morning.

...She’d probably kick his ass when she found he’d written his name across her right buttcheek while she slept, but for now, he’d enjoy the feel of her in his arms, and the reassurance that he was still here for her. And if she clung a little close or didn’t stray too far from his side in the following days, well, he’d just give her a kiss and a little light teasing until the brightness of her smile chased away any lingering thoughts of gloom.

Having his name pop up somewhere on her body after they’d gone to bed usually did the trick.

**Author's Note:**

> These two are _like_ a molotov, or some other creative imagery idfk xD Nonsense titles are fun t(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Please leave a comment if you read and enjoyed :) This fandom is bad about that, and contrary to popular opinion, the more comments you leave fic writers, the more content we write. I don't post work if I don't get something out of it, plain and simple xD The Borderlands fandom community is pretty good about that, and I've written over 120 fics for that fandom (all on tumblr, most on ao3). Leave a comment if you actually like my work babes! :D The time period to do so has no expiration!
> 
> [my fallout tumblr](http://CommonwealthBankofMacCready.tumblr.com/) | [my fic archive masterlist](https://commonwealthbankofmaccready.tumblr.com/post/172184061939/poisonjack-ao3-fic-archive)


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